


the colour blue

by kerrykins



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 13:59:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16745329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerrykins/pseuds/kerrykins
Summary: Andy likes a lot of things. The colour blue, and... something else.





	the colour blue

Andy was quite knowledgeable about the colour blue, and all of its different hues. Mainly because Miranda’s monologue has freaked her out. So she did the logical thing any shaken employee would do; spend countless hours researching.

 

She’d be lying if she said she hated it. It wasn’t something she did for enjoyment, more so out of survival. However, the cool hues of cornflower, capri, iris, teal, and of course, cerulean fascinated her.

 

There was something about them that was so captivating, reminiscent of something, or someone that has been on her mind recently. Andy had a couple inklings on what it was, but found that it was best to push these theories to the back of her mind. If she thought about it for too long, she was unable to focus and her mood turned sour. So it was really for the best.

 

Blue was a calming colour, neurologists wrote. For Andy, she’d list off all the variations of blue in alphabetical order to relax. Especially when Miranda had given her yet another impossible assignment.

 

But actually looking at all the colours laid out in front of her, was electrifying and made her feel an odd mixture of emotions. She wasn’t sure how to categorise them, but they were fleeting, lingering, uncomfortable, and dangerous. But terribly addicting. Andy wish she could figure out a better way to explain it to herself, because she just wanted it to at least seem a little coherent.

 

“Andrea, if I have to call your name one more time, I might as well throw my head into the paper shredder,” Miranda grumbled from her office.

 

Andy sighed as she set down her planner. Navy blue. She rose to her feet, dimly aware of Emily glaring at her as she scurried away.

 

“Yes, Miranda?” Those two words were automatic now. The editor barely spared her a glance as she frowned over paperwork.

 

“Move up the Gardenia shoot for tomorrow, 1:30. I need you to get Meisel on the phone before then, see if that’s compatible with whatever schedule he has. And tell Paul I will not allow his editorial team to push deadlines back, if they’re going to be altered, I’d rather have them pushed forward.”

 

Miranda paused for a moment to shuffle her papers into a neat stack, her glasses balancing precariously over her nose as she shifted in her seat. “That’s all.”

 

Andy hastily scrawled this into her notes. The ink bleeding into the pages was zaffre. “Alright.” She turned to leave, but stopped dead in her tracks when Miranda murmured, “You’re wearing an excessive amount of blue, it doesn’t look right with your complexion. Fix that.”

 

Dumbfounded, Andy managed a quick nod, then bolted to her desk as fast as she could.

 

Later that day, Miranda called Andy in to make changes to her schedule again.

 

It was getting late, and the brunette stumbled into the editor’s office, finding Miranda with her fingers curled around a glass of wine as opposed to a cup of coffee.

 

The snow-haired woman’s eyes glimmered dangerously upon her entry, as if daring Andy to comment on it. In this lighting, her icy eyes almost appeared grey. Glaucous blue.

 

“So is that all?” Andy inquired once Miranda had stopped speaking to delicately sip her wine. When the assistant spoke, Miranda tilted her head at her with detachment as she gracefully balanced her glass in the palm of her hand. “Not quite. Will you be accompanying me to that frivolous cocktail party on Friday?”

 

Andy was startled, unsure if she heard her correctly. Miranda never asked, she demanded. “Uh, if you want me to?” Was the best response she could formulate given her shock.

 

Miranda looked a bit flustered, refusing to meet Andy’s eyes. Her pink cheeks hinted at embarrassment. “Emily will go instead if you decide you have something better to do, which I highly doubt,” she sniffed haughtily. Miranda toyed with her wine glass for a bit, then let out an exasperated sigh as if she’d realised what she had been doing. The fidgeting immediately stopped.

 

Andy shifted uneasily in her seat. She hadn’t been excused yet, so she didn’t want to risk leaving and getting rebuked by Miranda. But the editor seemed distracted as she downed the remainder of her wine, and began refilling her glass once more.

 

Almost with resignation, she produced another glass from a cabinet, burgundy liquid sloshing along its sides. It was slid over to Andy. Miranda still wasn’t looking at her, but the brunette flashed her a weak smile of gratitude.

 

This was getting really weird. They had been drinking in silence for quite some time. Andy wondered if Miranda was okay, and why both of them were still here when all of today’s work had been completed. The assistant decided to test her luck with a question, which would at least get rid of this awful silence between them.

 

Licking her lips nervously, she piped up, “Miranda, why do you drink?” She almost immediately regretted her decision. Like she anticipated, this prompted a hard look from the older woman, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

 

Miranda set her glass down on a coaster delicately, propping her chin on a hand. Her glare softened into a stoic, pensive expression, and eventually shut her eyes for a moment as if she was actually considering the question. She had sharp features, but the curves of her cheekbones and slope of her nose were accentuated in pale moonlight. Breathtaking. Her hooded eyes fluttered open again, startling Andy with their intensity.

 

“I’m more curious as to why you drink. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you stumbling into work with bloodshot eyes and unkempt hair,” she chuckled, and with that, Andy didn’t mind at all that Miranda was laughing at her. It was a sound of amusement, and the fact that Miranda was amused at her expense was totally fine. Her eyes shone a radiant shade of azure when she laughed.

 

A smile tugged at Andy’s lips, but she tried to suppress it. “I drink to help me write, usually. But these days I do it to calm down.”

 

Miranda frowned. “I suppose that makes sense. And what exactly sparked this change?” The brunette flinched. It was because she started working at Runway, and Nate left her. And she had no friends. The editor gave her a knowing look. “Ah, so I was correct.”

 

Andy was baffled that Miranda would spare her any thought at all. Usually she didn’t pay much attention to her, and it really did hurt sometimes. But this sudden interest in her drinking habits was undesirable. “You didn’t answer my question,” she remarked, changing the subject.

 

The older woman raised an eyebrow, sweeping a stray wisp of white hair behind her ear. “Oh my, you noticed. So you’re not quite as absentminded as you look,” she purred. Miranda leaned back in her chair to stretch her arms above her head, exposing her long, elegant neck. Andy couldn’t help but stare.

 

“I drink to let go of myself, Andrea. A great deal happens in a day, and I need some way to relieve myself of everything,” she sighed, as she sat up straight in her chair once more.

 

Oh. Andy bit her lip. Before Runway, before all the fights with Nate, she would turn to him when she was stressed or overworked. And most couples did that, right? So why was Miranda- Andy inhaled sharply. God no. She would not make speculations about her boss’ sex life.

 

“That makes sense,” she offered, not really knowing what else to say. Her thoughts were a little clumsy after what she had just been thinking about earlier. Miranda rolled her eyes. “For a writer, I thought you’d be a little more eloquent in your wording.”

 

“Sorry, I’m just kind of tired,” Andy apologised. She suddenly felt overwhelmingly fatigued, but badly wanted to continue talking with Miranda. This probably would be the only chance she got to be with her like this.

 

There was a crease between the editor’s eyebrows as she glanced at her watch. “It’s getting late. You should be going home now, I’ll have Roy drive you home if you’d like.”

 

Andy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, thank you, that’d be great.” Miranda simply nodded at her and rose to her feet. Andy picked up her wineglass, and Miranda slipped hers in the brunette’s hand, their fingers brushing against each others. Andy blushed.“Don’t bother rinsing them, it can wait until tomorrow.”

 

There was a red lipstick mark on the rim of it, and the brunette scrutinised it for a moment before stowing them away in the cabinet.

 

Once she’d fetched Miranda’s things, Andy helped the editor into her fur coat, and her heart was pounding when she accidentally touched Miranda’s bare shoulders, which were exposed because of the way her dress was cut.

 

“Sorry,” she whispered. The older woman gave her an unreadable look, and said nothing. Miranda’s shoulders were warm, she thought to herself stupidly.

 

While they waited outside in the cold for Roy to pick them up, Miranda muttered something along the lines of, “What’s taking that damned driver so long?”

 

Andy gaped at her. Did she just swear? Miranda whirled around to face her, looking sheepish, but quickly schooled her features. Soon her face was perfectly cool. Alright then.

 

After a bit, the brunette found herself also wishing that the driver would get here soon. They were sitting on an uncomfortable small bench in the lobby now, and the pair were practically squished against each other.

 

“If you want I can,” Andy began. Miranda glared at her. “What, Andrea? Get a taxi or take the subway at 2AM? I think not.” The brunette was dumbfounded, and stayed quiet. A couple minutes later, she felt something weighing down her shoulder, and saw that Miranda was leaning on her. She swallowed. Holy shit. Okay, so she was probably asleep. Or at least half asleep. Either way, Roy needed to get here now, because she couldn’t stand this. She was sweating profusely now. Her dress and coat would be toast.

 

The smell of Miranda’s perfume was intoxicating, and her downy hair tickled Andy’s cheek. Oh god. And she was soft and warm, which was surprising for someone known as the Snow Queen of Fashion.

 

Once a black Mercedes pulled up, Andy gently prodded the editor awake. “Miranda? Roy’s here now, we should go.” The editor gave her a confused look, then leapt away from her like she’d been hit.

 

She cleared her throat. “Come along, Andrea,” Miranda said nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened. Andy noticed that she was practically sprinting out the door, and sighed as she too, jogged to keep up with her.

 

Miranda’s face was turned to the window and said nothing for most of the ride. Once they were almost at Andy’s apartment, she finally spoke.

 

“You should wear blue more often,” the editor remarked, peering at her with lapis blue eyes.

 

Andy stared at her intently, and Miranda’s gaze was just as unwavering. After a moment, the older woman distantly added, “That’s all.”

 

The brunette stepped out of the car, and Miranda gave her a nod when she thanked her again.

 

That night, Andy lay in bed, unable to sleep. When she finally did, she dreamt of cerulean, Miranda’s neck, and warmth on her shoulder.

 


End file.
